


The Petal Game

by TheJeksburyGuy



Series: Lily [1]
Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic)
Genre: Abuse, Child Abuse, If you are a pedo/incest shipper kindly fuck off thanks, Incest, Incest portrayed as bad because it is, Pedophilia, Sibling Incest, They are intended to portray the trauma, This story and later stories in the series are not for you, and inherent abuse of these acts, and the effects they have on the victim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:01:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27945710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJeksburyGuy/pseuds/TheJeksburyGuy
Summary: (The 'Lily' series deals heavily with topics of sexual abuse and assault, and the trauma associated with them. Please do not read anything in the 'Lily' series if you are harmed by reading such content. Take care of yourselves, stay safe, and remember; no one asked for it, no one deserves it, and you are not defined by what was done to you.)Henry loved his big brother. He was always nice and friendly and gave Henry extra sweets when he visited from college, and the games they played were always fun.Except for this new game.This new game makes his stomach twist unpleasantly, but he isn't sure why.It's just another game. Right?
Series: Lily [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046524
Kudos: 16





	The Petal Game

"Henry! You little scamp, how are you?"

Henry excitedly raced towards the long legs of his older brother, latching onto the man with a wide smile as he jumped up and down. He could hear his father chuckling as he approached the two of them, welcoming Rodger home and asking him about college life.

"Rodger? Is that you?" His mother poked her head out of the kitchen, her crow's feet becoming more pronounced as she smiled. She always fussed over them, but Henry thought they made her even prettier, just like her laugh lines and her rough hands. Rodger walked over to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, Henry giggling as he was dragged along. "Oh, Henry, don't dirty your brother's suit! Come here, wean, come off him!" Henry scurried towards her, smiling. He was too small to understand the importance of a clean suit, too used to his father's dirtied work clothes and his mother's messy apron and hair. The boy himself was constantly covered in smudges of dirt, either from play or from the small jobs he was old enough to do.

His mother scooped him up, holding him on her hip as she spoke with Rodger, and Henry found his gaze drifting over Rodger's expensive suit and odd smile. His brown eyes were almost always cold, something that made Henry squirm when they fixed on him, but he tried his best to brush it aside. He was his big brother, afterall, and he was supposed to love him unconditionally. His mother shifted her hold on him, drawing him out of his thoughts, and placed him on a stool by the counter. While his mother finished up the stew, Henry dutifully helped make rolls of dough, clumsy with his small hands. He was so focused on his task that when he felt pressure on his rear, it startled him so badly he almost fell over. He turned his head to see Rodger looking at him funny again, and a shiver rolled through his tiny body. His brother seemed pleased with that reaction and walked back out to talk with their father, leaving Henry to uncomfortably finish making the dough balls for tonight's bread rolls. Another one of Rodger's odd pranks, he decided, and kept quiet when his mother kissed the top of his head.

When dinner came, he moved to sit between his mother and father like always, only to squeak as Rodger hefted him into his lap across from them. His parents chuckled at what seemed like brotherly antics, their mother light-heartedly scolding the man for startling Henry.

"Look at the poor lad, he's turning red," Their father teased affectionately, under the impression his youngest child was simply flustered with embarrassment. The jokes and conversation as they ate barely reached Henry's ears, too busy listening to his own frantic heartbeat. Rodger had a hand on his thigh, his thumb close to the pulse-point on the inside of his leg, and every squeeze sent Henry's stomach rolling. He didn't have much of an appetite anymore, but he finished his dinner with a tiny smile and a 'thank you', legs a bit shaky when Rodger set him down on the floor. What was that just now? Rodger had always been a bit handsy with him, sure, but that had felt different. Bad. Henry had the unpleasant feeling he had done something wrong, the same feeling he would get when he stole flowers from his mother's garden or tracked dirt in the house. Feeling guilty for reasons he didn't know, he kept his mouth shut, even when Rodger ruffled his hair with a heavy hand that made Henry's mind whisper 'danger'.

* * *

"Henry? Psst, Henry! Wake up!"

Henry whined a bit as his sleep was interrupted, blinking slowly as he sat up and rubbed at his eyes. Rodger was looking at him with a gleam in his cold eyes, making Henry more alert. He nervously toyed with his blankets, waiting for him to speak.

"Henry, come on," Rodger said in a hushed tone. "I have a game for you to play~" Henry felt a bit uneasy at his tone, but climbed out of bed all the same, curious. Rodger always made fun games, like naming as many animals as you could in a minute, or making the highest tower out of pebbles possible. This game must have something to do with flowers, because Rodger had Henry's box of petals open on the floor. Henry calmed slightly, more relaxed. This must have been an apology for acting so strange today!

"How do we play? What game is it?" He asked innocently, tilting his head as he watched Rodger pull some fresh flowers from his pocket. Lilies. Their white petals were vibrant and soft, freshly picked, and they would make a lovely addition to the dull browns, reds, purples, and pinks of the dried petals he'd collected over the years.

"It's called the petal game," Rodger said, and plucked a petal from one of the lilies. He set it on his shoe. "You have to grab the petal, and it gets harder everytime you do~" Henry noticed something off about the way that sentence was said, but he couldn't figure out what, so he ignored it. He crouched down and grabbed the petal off of Rodger's shoe with ease, adding it to his box of petals happily. "Very good, Henry~" Another sickly shudder swept over him as he picked the next petal off of Rodger's knee, the man thankfully crouched down as well to make it a tad bit easier. And so the game continued, with Rodger plucking petals off of lilies and placing them on his hands, his knees, his nose, his shoulders, the top of his head. Henry had grown more and more comfortable with the game, happy to play with his brother again after so long apart.

"Now this one~" Rodger said as he placed another petal down.

Henry stared at where it lay, his unease returning with a vengeance. He knew, through the curious grabbing of little hands that didn't know any better, that you weren't supposed to touch people there. His father had explained it was very rude, and that people didn't like it, so he should never ever ever put his hands there, ever.

"Henry, grab the petal," Rodger said, voice harsher now. Henry took a step back, shaking his head. Rodger's cold eyes narrowed, and Henry's stomach clenched painfully. "Henry, grab the petal. If you don't, I'm telling mother and father you've been up past your bedtime." Henry froze, unsure of what to do. He didn't want to get in trouble, he hated when they sighed and told him off, it made him feel awful to upset his parents. Hands shaking, he reached for the petal. Rodger let out a sound Henry had never heard before, and his head swam with a woozy, frightened feeling as he felt something shift under the fabric.

"Very good~" Rodger purred, and Henry's heart sped up with dread as his brother plucked another petal off a lily.

* * *

When Henry was ten, he gave the box of petals to a girl at school for her birthday. She thanked him profusely, and he remembered thinking she looked very pretty when she smiled. The warmth blossoming in his chest died as soon as she asked him why there were so many lily petals in the box. He told her he thought they were pretty, and was glad when she left to go be picked up by her parents, taking the horrid box and all its memories with it.

 _Maybe,_ he thought as he went home, _Maybe now I won't have to play the petal game._


End file.
